


First Time

by jeromevaleska



Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Making Love, Oral Sex, POV Female Character, Reader-Insert, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Smut, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 19:13:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5978088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeromevaleska/pseuds/jeromevaleska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom is staying at your encampment and you both take a liking to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Time

You hadn’t expected to see such carnage. You knew there had been a mighty battle fought on this field, yet knowing and seeing were two different things. Your stomach lurched and had you not clenched your teeth, you would have thrown up on your brand new leather boots. Something must have shown on your face, because your brother looked at you worriedly.

You tried to school your expression, but it was difficult. You bet your skin had turned an unattractive greenish color. The field that had once been covered in grass and colorful flowers had turned to mud. Countless of bodies laid in the mire, most of them so disfigured it was to hard to believe they could ever be recognized. The stench of blood was almost overpowering. Already, the crows were blackening the sky like one giant cloud announcing death. They trudged the killing ground carefully, trying not to stomp on some body parts.

It was almost a lost cause. You saw blood, entrails, guts and skins, but it felt as if you couldn’t get the whole picture. These fragments didn’t meet to make a human being in your mind, and you were kind of grateful to it. You probably would have thrown up despite your best efforts or, God forbids, fainted. You shivered from head to toe and hugged your jacket closer to your body. The weather was fairly warm, yet you felt cold all over.

You had no idea how long you walked ankle-deep in mud before you found one person still alive. Your brother saw a twitch in a pile of bodies, and you found a man underneath, there was specks of blood on his face and he was still breathing. He must have been shielded from the last attack by those dead bodies. Yet his breathing was labored and wheezy and it was hard to tell if the blood on him was his or someone else’s.

They flipped him on his back and you bent over, checking for a pulse. It was there, faint but stubborn. You checked the man over rapidly, assessing the visible wounds. His clothes were torn, revealing some bruises and scratches, but nothing life-threatening.

“He’s still alive. We have to take him back with us.” you said, turning to face your brother with a frown.

“We shouldn’t. We don’t know him.” he shook his head, voicing his disapproval.

“Don’t be like that,” you snapped, your eyes hardening. “His countrymen have been massacred for no reason. Don’t you think it would be even more damning to our soul to let him die here?”

He snarled and crossed his arms. You could see your brother wanted to argue but didn’t dare to. Finally, he heaved a sigh and crouched beside the wounded man. “Fine, we’ll carry him back to our encampment. But you will care for him. He’ll be your responsibility. Understood?” he said in a sharp tone.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Understood.”

Carrying an unresponsive body however was easier said than done, though that didn’t stop you two from attempting to drag him out of the blood bath, and since he was unconscious, he couldn’t help at all by trying to keep his footing. Your brother suggested more than once that you should just abandon the dead weight amongst his peers, but you stubbornly refused to.

You weren’t always this hard-headed and you would usually yield easily when it came to your older brother, but there was nothing he could do to change your mind about this wounded stranger. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt about the whole massacre. You weren’t a fighter, you were a healer. You’d never killed anything bigger than a spider in your whole life. Perhaps all of the fighting was starting to take its toll on you and you knew that you’d feel better about it all if you could at least rescue one poor wounded solider from the war.

With much huffing and puffing, you both managed to drag the wounded man back to your camp. Finally, the greyish canvas of the tent appeared at the end of a muddy path. By then, you were both sweating and grunting under the dead weight of the wounded man. Your brother felt all his small aches and pains reawakened and he mourned the wasted time that could have been used to bathe in warm water. He knew better than to voice his annoyance however. You might not have been a solider like him, but you had an infinite amount of energy when it came to healing the wounded.

You opened the flap of the tent and you both carried the wounded man to an empty cot at the end of the last line of beds. It stood near the oily canvas wall that flapped gently in the breeze.

With some effort, you both lowered the man to the cot. Your brother straightened with a frown. “So, are you going to be alright with him in your tent?” he asked with something akin to worry in his voice.

“Of course,” you answered distractedly. You were already at work, checking the man over for other wounds than the ones you have already seen. “He’s going to be far too weak to be any trouble.”

“But what of when he grows stronger?” he asked.

You sighed and looked up at your brother with some exasperation mingled with deep respect in your eyes. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Alright, I’ll trust you on this one. I have to go now. Gotta report on what we saw there anyway.” his eyes hardened ever so slightly. “But if he gives you any trouble, I’ll see to it that he doesn’t ever get out of that bed.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but he already turned his back. You watched your older brother walk out of the tent and when he left, you looked back at the wounded man lying on the cot in front of you.

Your hands began working precisely and gently. With a pair of sharp scissors, you cut his clothes so they could more easily be removed. You cut through the sleeves from wrist to shoulder and pulled on the torn fabric to remove it. You discovered a gash on his right thigh, covered in fresh blood, it was about five inches long but not deep enough to have severed the artery.

Other such gashes were found all over the man’s body, though none were life threatening, but the blood had to be stanched rapidly. The air in the tent was disgustingly humid and warm, you were already sweating underneath your clothes and your hair stuck to your cheeks and forehead. You wiped it away from your brow as best as you could with the back of your forearm, keeping your bloody fingers away from your face. Was it just your imagination or had the man stirred ever so slightly? Then you looked at the man, really looked at him, taking in his injuries, the paleness of his skin, the slackness of his body. You couldn’t deny that he was very handsome and you found yourself staring at his face longer than you should have been.

You snapped out of your reverie and you reached for a white rag, dipping it in the basin of lukewarm water, wrung it, then proceeded to gently clean his wounds on his body. The blood had not yet dried and was easily washed away. You then put the now-stained rag in the water which turned almost immediately a pinkish color. You leaned in closer to the patient to examine the wounds. As you had first feared, the one on his thigh would need stitches.

With a new rag, you cleaned the wound a second time but with warm alcohol. The man didn’t even twitch, but his breathing seemed a bit more strained. You put the foul-smelling rag away and picked up a semicircular needle with a silk suture already threaded through it. With a sure hand, you started working on a simple and quick stitch. Once the stitching was done, it was only a matter of cleaning the rest of the wounds on the solider.

As you did you tried to imagine how he must have gotten them. Clearly, he must have been hit only by debris since the wounds were quite insignificant. Once all the wounds had been cleaned and bandaged, you took a few steps back to eye critically at your work. The man would live, that was certain, unless there was some undetectable interior wound. Though, you doubted it.

Satisfied with your work, you took a folded light blanket from the foot of the narrow cot, unfolded it with a shake and covered the man with it. Now time and rest would finish the job.

When he finally woke up, disorientated and in pain, the first thing he tried to do was sit up to get a better look at his surroundings, but the movement itself unleashes a harsh hiss from his mouth. He lies back down slowly and tries to keep his breathing even. He looks around the room and from the things he sees: a couple of chairs spaced about the tent and medical equipment on a stand.

He tries to recall the last moment of consciousness before awakening but had no recollection of what happened. A sigh of utter frustration escapes him.

He attempts for a second time to sit himself up. This time he moves slowly and carefully, after a few winces and gasps, he’s successful. He’s still trying to catch his breath when the door opens and you walk in.

The sight of you has him feeling even more confused, he’s about to speak but before he can open his mouth you’re already by his side. “I’m so glad you’re awake, I was really worried.” you uttered softly.

“Where am I?” he asked as he continued to look about the room.

“This is my brother’s encampment. You’re safe here.” you reassured him, trying to guide him back onto the bed and surprisingly he allowed you to. “We brought you here because you were hurt. How are you feeling?” you asked, handing him a canteen that was on a small table.

He quickly snatches it from your hands and gulps most of the water down. He blinks in confusion a few times before he replies, “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N L/N. Tell me yours.” you said with a small smile.

“Tom, Tom Fairfax.” his body is trembling a little before he hands the canteen back to you and you return it to the table.

“I promise you’re safe here, Tom. You’re going to be okay.” you brushed your fingers against his shoulder gently and you could feel goosebumps rise on his skin.

“Why are you—” he cuts himself off and takes a long pause before he adds, “You’re too kind, thank you.” he looked at you with a half smile.

“Are you hungry? I can get you something to eat.” you suggested, examining how pale his skin looked.

“No, I’m not hungry.” he hugs his knees close to his body, taking in a sharp breath.

“Okay well, I’ll be in the next room if you need anything, just call my name.” you said with a reassuring smile and he tried to return one but it was more of a frown than anything else.

“You can stay.” he suddenly blurted out when you stood up from the bed, “If you want to, of course.”

You felt your cheeks blossom with a soft tint of pink and you sat back on the bed next to him, massaging his shoulder gently with your hand. You two had a short conversation about him thanking you for handling his wounds but before you knew it, he was fast asleep. You pulled the blanket back on his body, covering him in it before you left the room.

You stopped by the tent frequently and with each visit you got to know more about him, like what his life was like before the war. There were times when he woke up in a panicked state, speaking of bits and pieces about his experiences in the war, and you were always there to comfort him, reassuring him that he was safe and sound. You always served him food and water at day and night. The days when he was more quiet, you would tell him about your hobbies and what you did that day when you were away from him.

Your heart would skip a beat every time you made him laugh or smile, it was certainly a special sight. You didn’t know how to describe the way he made you feel into words but all you knew was that seeing him was your favorite part of the day.

One night when he was sleeping, you came by his bed to leave food at the table. When you got up to leave, you suddenly felt a hand grasp yours in a firm grip so you whipped your head back to look at him. His eyes were heavily lidded and he managed a small smile, meeting your gaze. “Stay a while, won’t you?”

You blinked before replying, “Of course.” you smiled back and sat next to him, your fingers slowly brushing against his when you pulled your hand away.

There was a loud silence hanging in the air, which made your skin prickle. You weren’t sure what to say or do and out of habit, you started playing with your hair nervously, coiling your locks within your fingers tightly. He noticed this, he would turn to look at you and then back at the ceiling or the wall, but when he finally broke the silence, you were almost sure that your heart stopped.

“Y/N,” he uttered lowly and there’s a long pause before he continued, “You ever been with a man before?”

Your eyes widened in surprise when those words fall from his lips and your cheeks are even more flushed than before, if that was even possible. You continued wrapping your strands of hair around your fingers, turning away from his eyes and looking aimlessly about the room. “I… no. I’ve never done it. Where is this coming from?” you stuttered, wondering if the word was visibly printed on your forehead and that’s why it was so obvious.

He couldn’t help but chuckle before he said, “You’re beautiful, Y/N. Truly.”

“Tom, I…” you started but you’re not sure if you can find the words.

“Yes?” he asked, waiting for an answer, and he carefully scooted closer to your side.

“Will you be my first?” you questioned softly, gazing into his eyes with a longing look. “I always dreamed of my first time being with someone special, and you’re special, to me.”

“Of course, I would be much obliged to.” he said, almost in a whisper.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your legs swung off the side, feet making nervous circles in the air before you grabbed his hand and started to scoot farther back onto the bed. He allowed himself to be pulled along, until his knees hit the edge of the mattress. He climbed up and laid down beside you. You turned on your side to face him. “You don’t mind?” you said quietly, “That I won’t know what I’m doing?”

“Not at all,” he smiled, trailing a finger across your cheek. “I’m actually selfish enough to be glad I don’t have to imagine any other man touching you the way I want to touch you.”

You giggled softly and smiled, and he could see that you were trembling slightly. “Then touch me,” you murmured. “Please, Tom.”

His piercing eyes were looking into yours longingly. You had never been so happy in your life. The kiss you had been waiting for was finally on its way. He searched your eyes for even the slightest hint of refusal or doubt. Finding neither, he carefully moved in closer, placing his soft fingertips along your jawline.

Your face rages hot against his steady hands, and a shudder rolls from your chest to your toes as his body brushes against your dress.

He kissed you with a gentle hunger, attempting to ease your nerves even as he lets his desire take over the moment. Lost in the taste of his moist lips, it takes you a few seconds to realize it’s him, not you, who is trembling ever so slightly. Still, his long, sweet kiss is confident and sure, and he finishes with a flicker of his warm tongue in between your parted lips. It feels as if a dream is ending as he pulls away from you. An inquisitive look graces his face, and you swear on everything sacred that you can hear him asking if you want him to kiss you again.

He pulled you underneath him and dipped his tongue into your mouth in long, lazy strokes, feeling and caressing every crevice and indenture you had to offer while you moaned in response. Your kisses lacked in practice but it made up for in enthusiasm. Your hands subconsciously traveled up to his head and intertwined your fingers in the soft hair you had often dreamed of. When you tugged slightly at his hair, he bucked into your hips. You gasped at the sensation, panting as you pulled away from the kiss to look up at his darkened eyes. You had fantasized of having your first kiss with him many times, and you had often felt a yearning to just walk up to him and kiss him whenever he smiled at you. But you didn’t think that was ever going to happen until now.

He smiled and moved slowly away from your mouth. He didn’t kiss the skin of your neck and collarbone - not yet, much as he longed to taste, but instead he let his hair trail down until he reached the edge of your dress neckline, enjoying your breathy laugh as he tickled your skin. He placed a quick, soft kiss at the top of your cleavage, and was rewarded with a shudder and an arched back. He slid a finger underneath the neckline.

“Sit up, Y/N.” he said before adding, “Let me take this off.”

You obliged, and wiggled until he was able to extract your skirt from underneath you and pull the whole garment over your head. He tossed the dress aside and took a moment to stare. You made an instinctive move to cover yourself, but he watched you deliberately let your arms fall to your sides. You averted your gaze until he leaned in close. He felt your nipples brush softly against the fabric of his shirt. You inhaled sharply, “Sensitive?” he asked, and you nodded your head.

“Lay down,” he instructed. “I’m going to taste you, like I’ve been imagining for weeks.”

When you flushed, the red spread all the way down to your chest. He chuckled as he eased you back down onto the bed. “Do you not want me to tell you those things? I won’t, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No,” you gasped when he bent down and took a nipple into his mouth. “Tell me,” you said, your voice squeaking on the second word. “Tell me everything.”

He began murmuring as he lavished attention on your breasts. “I knew you’d taste so good,” he said before swirling his tongue around a hardened nipple. You moaned, but swallowed the sound. He raised his head to look up at you, rolling your nipple between his fingers. “You sound so pretty like this. I want to hear you, please.” he pleaded.

You propped yourself up on one elbow and picked at his shirt with the other hand. “Will you…” you bit your lip and continued in a near whisper. “Take this off? I want to feel your skin.”

He smiled and sat up. As he unbuttoned his shirt, you reached up and trailed a hand down the strip of skin he exposed. When he shrugged the shirt to the ground, you laid your palms flat over his stomach. He felt his member jump when you trailed lightly down to the waistband of his trousers. You saw the movement, and your hand hovered over the area of his body where he most wanted to feel your touch. You looked up at him, “Can I?” you said, almost inaudibly.

His entire body was shouting yes, however, he grabbed your wrist lightly in his hand. “If you touch me now,” he told you, his voice surprisingly rough, “this whole thing will be over far too quickly.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I-I do that to you?”

“Yes. All the time.” he said under his breath.

“Oh.” you struggled back up to sitting and looped your arms around him. Your fingers traced patterns over the muscles on his back. “Can I tell you something?” you asked, your eyes on his chest.

He nodded his head, “Please do.”

You took a couple of deep breaths. Your gaze flicked up to his face, then back down again. “I’ve touched myself,” you said quickly, “In bed. Thinking about you.”

He felt his self-control stretch almost to the breaking point. He planted a hand on your thigh, his thumb dangerously close to your warm core, making you shudder. “Down there?” he murmured, his lips pressed to your temple.

“Yes.” The word came out on a hissing exhale. His hand inched up your thigh, causing you to squirm a little. “Do you want me to touch you like that?”

“Please.” you whispered.

He pushed you gently down onto your back, then leaned over and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to your mouth. “Show me,” he said.

“What?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

He reached down and tugged slightly on your remaining smallclothes. “Show me what makes you feel good, when you touch yourself.”

Your eyes widened and you bit at your lower lip before replying, “Really? You want me to…”

“Yes.” he almost didn’t recognize his own voice, wrecked as it sounded. “Show me, so I can make you feel good.”

You were trembling again, but you let him slide the plain cotton cloth down your legs. His fingers brushed the curls at the juncture of your thighs, and he swallowed thickly. He nudged your thighs apart gently until you were revealed to him, warm and wet. You glanced down, finding it difficult to look him in the eye because of your vulnerable position.

You hesitantly touched the nub between your legs and you immediately let out a gasp upon the contact, your muscles tensed, and he swore under his breath as he watched. He’d intended to let you get comfortable with yourself before he touched you, but the sight and smell of you broke what little control he had left. “Y/N,” he growled lightly. “I’m going to touch you now.”

He didn’t give you time to respond, he slid a finger between your folds, moving yours out of the way and circling your nub slowly. You emitted a high-pitched noise that was something between a whimper and a sigh, which got louder as he picked up his pace. Within a couple of moments, he stretched back out next to you, keeping one hand working between your legs as he pressed tiny kisses to your neck and jaw.

You screwed your eyes shut, so he kissed the corner of one of your eyes softly. “Look at me,” he said. “Look at me, Y/N, I want to see you.”

Your eyes fluttered back open, your body trembling against his fingers and the bed sheets. When you focused enough to meet his gaze, he stopped his frantic rubbing long enough to slip one finger inside your body. You sucked in a breath and arched your back off the bed. “Oh, Tom!”

“Does that feel good?” he asked as he moved his finger in and out at the same sort of pace he’d been using. When he crooked his finger, you whimpered. “Tell me.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “It feels so.. good, yes, please more.”

He watched your face as he thrust his finger inside deeper, until he felt you shudder in the particular way he’d been waiting for. You cried his name as you tumbled over the edge, gripping so tightly on the bed sheets that you nearly ripped through them. He slowly slipped his finger out as it got covered with your juices.

After you caught your breath, you rolled over to face him with a weak smile. “Wow,” you said with a breathy laugh.

“I never thought…” you started but didn’t finish what you were trying to say.

“Never thought what?” he asked.

“That it would feel like that.” you panted quietly as he brushed away the strand of hair that was falling in front of your face.

“And how did it feel?” he questioned with a warm smile.

“Amazing. You’re amazing.” you leaned in to peck the tip of his nose.

He reached down and started to unfasten his trousers. Next to him, you propped yourself up on one elbow and watched him tug his trousers off. He watched your face, but as soon as he finished undressing, your gaze focused on his hard member.

He smiled to himself and scooted up to lean his back on the headboard. You followed him, and he pulled on your waist until you were straddling his legs. You reached down between you two and wrapped your fingers tentatively around his member. His breath hissed between his teeth. You tried to slide your hand up his shaft, making him wince, caught between pain and the most pleasure he’d felt in ages.

Suddenly, he gently tugged at your wrist. “Let me see your hand, sweetheart.”

You watched him with wide eyes as he brought up your hand up to his mouth and licked stripes across your palm. “It feels better this way,” he explained.

With a wet palm, you reached back down and grabbed him. This time, your hand slid more easily up around his member, making him groan. Your fingers were soft around his hard length, and when you stopped to experimentally run your fingers up and down the underside of his member, he let his head fall back to the wall and swore. “Oh Y/N, that feels so good.”

He opened his eyes to see that you had a look of satisfaction on your face. You made a fist with him at the center, touching him lightly on all sides, and watched his face as you pumped your hand. He shivered, reflexively thrusting himself into your hand. His arms shook and sweat trickled down his spine and nose. Then you took your hand off him and shimmied down his length.

He looked back at you, you were regarding him with serious eyes. “I want you inside of me,” you murmured softly. “Is that okay?”

He couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Come here, sweetheart, I can’t tell you how much I need to be inside of you right now.”

When you moved up to straddle his hips, he grasped your waist. “This might hurt,” he warned. “The first time usually does, I’m told.”

You nodded quickly, “I know. I’m ready.”

After a few moments of positioning, you felt his tip slide inside of you. You inhaled slowly, so slowly that he had to forcibly press his own hips into the bed to keep from speeding up the process. As you slid down on him, he felt your barrier momentarily, and at that moment, you bit your lip and pressed down until he was fully inside. When you gasped, he pulled you close and kissed you sloppily. “You feel so good, Y/N, you’re so perfect.” he murmured into your mouth.

“Help me,” you said, shifting uncomfortably. “What do I do?”

“Move. Like this.” he instructed, pushing your hips until you withdrew enough that only his tip remained, at which point he snapped his hips forward and buried himself inside of you again. You reached out to grab his shoulders and dug your nails into his skin.

“How does that feel?” he asked around a low grunt.

“It feels…” you whimpered. You raised and lowered yourself without his prompting. Your hips fell forward on the next thrust, and your gasp sounded less pained. “Oh, that feels so good. Yes.”

He started to roll his hips with yours, forcing you into a rhythm that made you let out tiny noises with each thrust. You were so tight and hot, he could feel the energy gathering underneath his skin, and he struggled to focus on your expression. “Y/N, are you..”

You changed the angle, just slightly, and whatever he was about to ask slid away into a long, low moan.

“Ah, I love that. Please faster, Tom, please.” you begged.

He sped up the rhythm and found himself helplessly hanging on. He buried his face in your neck and his hips were thrusting erratically. The words he spoke into your skin came out a jumbled mess of scratchy groans and grunts.

He wrapped a hand around your thigh and yanked your leg over his hip, the position drawing him in even deeper. He kissed you deeply as he set the pace, and you moved your hips eagerly to meet his thrusts. He murmured soft words against your hot skin, repeating how beautiful you looked and how amazing you made him feel.

He slid a hand between your writhing bodies to tease your clit, bringing you to the brink along with him. Before long, he was moving faster, encouraged by your moans and the frantic way you gasped his name repeatedly. With a final, shuddering thrust, he couldn’t hold on any longer and he emptied himself inside you with a grunt. You came with him, going limp as you collapsed against him.

He held onto you while you shook and when you were still, he slowly withdrew from you with a quiet growl. You pressed your face under his neck, taking deep breaths as you brushed your lips against his skin. “Mmmmm,” you moaned lowly.

“Are you okay?” he asked, when his brain allowed him to form words again.

“Mmmm,” you said again, before lifting your head to look at him. “I feel all stretched out, it’s a little strange. But it felt so perfect. Thank you.”

“Does it hurt?” he asked, slipping his hand to caress the small of your back as he held you closer to his body.

You thought for a moment. “Maybe a little, but nothing I can’t handle.” you giggled softly.

He leaned down to kiss you, both of your tongues tangled lazily. You stroked a hand up and down his chest. When you pulled away, you looked down at him with half-lidded eyes. “It was even better than I could have ever imagined,” you said. “Thank you.”

“You were perfect.” he praised as he continued to stroke your back with his fingers.

“No, but you made me feel perfect.” you said with a warm chuckle.

The room falls silent except for the quiet panting. But you find the courage to break it, gazing into his eyes fixedly and leaning up to whisper in his ear, “Can we practice again tomorrow, then?

"Of course,” he smiled into your hair. “Any time you want.”


End file.
